


friends

by pennyone (LostChanceTo)



Series: who's gonna catch me when i fall [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Reverse Robin AU, That's it, it's their first meeting so, that's the whole fic, this is literally just dami and jon talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-20 01:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostChanceTo/pseuds/pennyone
Summary: Their fathers had grounded them both and left them in the Manor. Damian wasn’t entirely sure where his father was, but it was undoubtedly better than here. Damian didn’t do well with new people, especially new people who glowed like the sun. Jonathan Kent didn’t seem to have any problem with that, he just smiled and waited for - for something. For Damian to say something?What would Timothy do in this situation? They were in Damian’s house. He should make an effort. Damian decided to model his behavior somewhat after Timothy’s, one of the few times Timothy’s parents were home at the same time Timothy was.“Would you like a drink?” Damian said.
Relationships: Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne
Series: who's gonna catch me when i fall [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552462
Comments: 2
Kudos: 90





	friends

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year my dudes

Dark head of untamed hair, a chubby face, skin a soft almost tan that seemed to glow under the light of the sun, pretty purple eyes, and a smile that burned too bright to look at, Superman’s son had all the facial structure of Lois Lane.

Damian crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. 

He was a whole fourteen years old, he didn’t need his father trying to force him to make friends. But Superman was technically a family friend. . . and Terrance called him Uncle Clark. . . 

“Hi!” Superman’s son finally burst out, smile growing wider. Damian hadn’t known that was possible. “I’m Jonathan Kent.”

“Damian Wayne,” Damian said, stiff. Superman’s son, Jonathan Kent, bounced on his feet, looking far more excited than Damian was comfortable with. Damian wasn’t comfortable at all. He wanted to be out on patrol.

But their fathers had grounded them both and left them in the Manor. Damian wasn’t entirely sure where his father was, but it was undoubtedly better than here. Damian didn’t do well with new people, especially new people who glowed like the sun. Jonathan Kent didn’t seem to have any problem with that, he just smiled and waited for - for something. For Damian to say something?

What would Timothy do in this situation? They were in Damian’s house. He should make an effort. Damian decided to model his behavior somewhat after Timothy’s, one of the few times Timothy’s parents were home at the same time Timothy was. 

“Would you like a drink?” Damian said. It came out quiet and frustratingly stiff. Where was Stephanie when he needed her? She could relax him with a single smile and a well placed joke.

“Um, do you have juice?” Jonathan said, scratching at the back of his mop of hair. Damian nodded and turned to head to the kitchen. Jonathan followed closely, making soft, awed noises as he stared around the house. “I’ve never been here before! Dad says he comes and visits Uncle Bruce a lot. I didn’t know he had a kid my age!” 

“I’m fourteen,” Damian said quietly as they entered the kitchen. Jonathan took a seat at the kitchen table, right in the sunny spot, acting for all the world like this was his house. “And I’ve only been here for about a year.”

Also. Uncle Bruce?

“I’m fifteen, it’s basically the same thing,” Jonathan said with a little wave of his hand. Damian rolled his eyes as he pulled open the fridge and peered inside.

  
“Orange, grape, or mango?” Damian asked, already pulling out the bottle of mango juice for himself.

“Orange, please,” Jonathan said. Damian pulled that one out with a humm of confirmation and placed the two bottles on the counter. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“I don’t know you,” Damian said, unable to keep the snide tone from his voice. “I cannot be expected to socialize effectively.”

He’d been under house arrest for three days after a mission went wrong. He didn’t have it in him to monitor himself properly. He wanted to be outside! He wanted the rooftops and frigid Gotham air! Not to be put on babysitting duty. Fifteen was plenty old enough for Jonathan to be left alone. And by alone, he meant in Jonathan’s own home, not in Damian’s Manor.

“I’m sure you’ll get used to me,” Jonathan said with a little shrug, “Dad said he was going to start dropping me off here more often.” Damian pulled a face. “Don’t be like that. We’ll be friends in no time.” 

Damian walked over to hand Jonathan his cup of orange juice. “I have no intention of making more friends. I have two. That’s enough.” Jonathan laughed as Damian turned around, heading back to the counter.

“You can’t just have two friends, Damian,” Jonathan said, voice surprisingly gentle. Damian glanced at him as he put away the juice bottles. “Are they friends with each other?”

“Yes,” Damian said, “all three of us are friends with each other.” Jonathan nodded.

  
“And what happens when two of you fight?” Jonathan said and took a sip. Damian frowned, grabbing his own cup and sitting across from Jonathan.

“We don’t fight,” Damian said with a little nod. Jonathan eyed him, then shrugged.

“I hope not,” he said quietly, “fighting’s no fun.” He took another long sip of his drink.

_ What if  _ they fought? Damian. Damian didn’t want to think about it. Timothy and Stephanie were well suited to each other, and both were well suited for him. And even if he didn’t quite fit in the way he wanted to, he was getting better. They were a team. The three of them seriously fighting was. . .

Shouldn’t Damian be prepared for all outcomes?

“What if we fight?” Damian asked quietly. Jonathan looked up at him, surprised, sunlight dancing on his hair and lighting up his purple eyes. 

“Sorry,” he said immediately, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head, “did I scare you? I didn’t mean to. I just meant that if the three of you fight, you might feel. . . isolated?”

Damian nodded. He understood that, probably better than Jonathan thought he did. For the last six years of his life with the League, he’d been plenty isolated. He hadn’t even spoken to his mother during that time. Not if he could avoid it. It had been the worst six years of his life. “Have you fought with your friends?”

Jonathan laughed. “Of course,” he said, “there was this whole mess in sixth grade - I don’t even want to get into it. It was  _ bad _ .” He shook his head, frowning down at his orange juice. “And it was pretty lonely at the time, even though I had a lot of friends.” 

He looked up. 

For all his resemblance to his mother, Damian had seen Superman wear this expression enough for him to recognize it on Jonathan’s face. It seemed like Jonathan shared his father’s large, bleeding heart. “Uncle Bruce says you don’t make friends easily. I kinda. . . I wanted to make sure you’re doing ok. If nothing else, you can just rant to me. I’m six states away, there’s not much I can do, but you won’t be alone. That’s the important bit, right?”

Damian -

Damian didn’t really know what to do with that information. He decided instead to down the rest of his mango juice.

Jonathan was still watching him, probably waiting for an answer. Damian didn’t know what to say!

Would it really help to have a friend like Jonathan was offering? Damian kinda wanted to run next door to ask Timothy (if he was even at Drake Mansion. His parents certainly weren’t, which was recipe enough for Timothy to hightail it to Miss Kyle’s apartment). 

  
Well it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t  _ hurt _ to befriend Jonathan.

“Ok,” Damian said quietly. Jonathan grinned at him and finished the last of his juice. “Let’s be friends, Jonathan.”

“You can call me Jon if you want,” Jonathan said. Damian rolled his eyes.

“We’re not nearly close enough for that,” he huffed, “I don’t even call my actual friends by their nicknames.” Jonathan pulled a face and stood, glass in hand. “Oh, I can-”

“It’s ok, I’ve got it,” Jonathan said, picking up Damian’s glass as well. He put them in the sink and turned to face Damian, grinning widely. “You have any video games?” Damian did, in fact, have several video games, none of which he actually played. He nodded and gestured for Jonathan to follow him upstairs.


End file.
